


To Be Touched

by newyorktopaloalto



Series: An Invincible Summer [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, It's getting there, M/M, Slow Build, it'll happen, slowly but surely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorktopaloalto/pseuds/newyorktopaloalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His breath was measured and slow as he faced the direction of the storm, a small smile on his face. [In which Grantaire loves the rain.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Touched

**Author's Note:**

> "For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched." —Simon Van Booy
> 
> I have a Grantaire kind of back story written up, and another chronological piece set after this one in the works. These boys are so stubborn, they're great to write.

The rain was a light constant, sky grey and the hypnotic sound of drops on the still almost too hot pavement made a steady stream of static noise. He glanced up from the essay he was editing, red pen in hand and bright marks marring the stark contrast of black and white— uniform with a million others of students trying their damndest not to fail. His reading glasses fell off of the bridge of his nose as he absent-mindedly pet the cat, its ‘mrow’ of reproach startling him back to reality. There was no one in his apartment, and after a moment of careful thought he opened up the window and climbed onto the fire escape, the first drop of rain hitting his skin like a lightening bolt. His breath was measured and slow as he faced the direction of the storm, a small smile on his face. Minutes later, though he couldn’t be too terribly sure of how long he felt the rain, he held out his arms from his sides and spun around in a circle; God, the rain felt like nothing he had experienced in such a long time, and how sad was that? 

“What are you doing?” 

Grantaire startled out of his position and held onto the ledge of the fire escape, peering down at the crimson umbrella, a blond head poking out from under the protection. 

“Standing,” he replied, “the rain feels beautiful, you should try it, Enjolras.” 

And he knew that Enjolras wouldn’t get the same thrill as he did, that the raindrops feeling like warmth and millions of bodies around his own probably would only feel cold and wet to the other man. But goddamnit, he could try to make Enjolras see— and that was the funny thing, wasn’t it? Enjolras stated that he finally saw Grantaire, but R, himself, had never shown anyone in his life, everything. He had the not-so-sneaking suspicion that Enjolras would be the first, and he was quite positive of the fact that the other would soon wish he hadn’t been able to see him; he would wish that Grantaire could once more be the nay-sayer in the back corner of the Musain, only within his peripherals as he stated something completely contrary. 

“Can I come up, if nothing else?” Enjolras asked in reply, voice wry as he tried turning the handle to the doorknob that obviously wouldn’t unlock. 

“Of course!” Grantaire hurried, his still dripping form making little puddles on the floor as he buzzed Enjolras in. He stood silent for a moment, counting the seconds it would take for Enjolras to trudge up the stairs— the blond seemed to never take the elevator, and R had the feeling that he was not comfortable in enclosed spaces. After counting to thirty, he unlocked his apartment door, a small smile on his face as Enjolras rounded the corner— an answering grin on his flushed cheeks. 

“What brings you here?” Grantaire asked as Enjolras closed the apartment door behind himself. 

“I just—“ Enjolras hesitated, throat working as he tried to form appropriate words. “I was just wondering how the posters were coming along.” 

Grantaire blinked and his mouth flickered down for a brief second, before nodding— mostly to himself, and shuffling over to his dining-kitchen-living table and picking up a small stack of papers along with a memory stick. 

“Here are your options and the jpg.’s of the poster-sized versions of the ones you choose, if any.” 

Enjolras nodded and glanced through the selections quickly, humming occasionally at one. R stared at him for a while before turning away to needlessly stack papers. 

“Was that all?” he asked, papers sorted to an almost OCD perfection. 

“Huh?” Enjolras startled, “Oh, yeah, that was everything. Thank you, Grantaire, these are wonderful.” 

Grantaire waved the compliment away and smiled wanly, moving over to the front of the room to open the door once more for Enjolras. 

“Well, if you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.” 

Enjolras nodded and paused for a moment, a flush overtaking his face, before clearing his throat and taking his leave. 

“What if it’s not for business reasons?” Grantaire opened the door from its half-closed position and stared at the back of the other man. 

“You know where to find me,” he repeated, and he saw Enjolras’ shoulders relax before be walked away. The door was open a few seconds longer before Grantaire had the state of mind to actually close it. 

And hours later, as he stood on the still wet fire escape, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the rain suddenly felt that much warmer on his skin. Even through his confusion at the man he felt so completely wretched and entrenched towards, the rain would always be constant.


End file.
